Ambush
by mbali
Summary: CHAP 2 FINALLY --- AU version of Legolas, Aragorn, and Gimli’s flight to save Pippin and Merry. Includes a confrontation with urk-hai, in which none of them come out un-scathed. Also features Eomer.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Ambush  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: it doesn't belong to me, but to some guy named JRR Tolkien, or his estate, or whatev.  
  
Summary: AU version of Legolas, Aragorn, and Gimli's flight to save Pippin and Merry. Includes a confrontation with urk-hai, in which none of them come out un-scathed. Also feature Eomer.  
  
Author's Note: Well, lets just say that I was bored-but not bored enough to have the energy to come up with an actual plot or anything ( . I know Eomer and Aragorn meet for the first time in TT, but, for some strange reason, I have them here as old buddies. Eh, just exercising my artistic license.  
  
Oh yeah, and if anyone can think of a better title, tell me, cos this one sucks!  
  
Gimli welcomed the pause. If it wasn't for the excessive pride that came with all dwarves, he would have given up by now, or at least slowed down. His body was aching and he wasn't sure how much longer he could stand. And he was supposed to be the hardy one! It was Aragorn who led them on, a man. Gimli would not let himself be outdone by such a creature, albeit King upon men. Or an elf, for that matter.  
  
Up ahead Aragorn had stopped the endless sprint though the night for a moment to put his head to the ground. Legolas kneeled beside the king, also straining to hear for any clue to their friends' whereabouts.  
  
"I hear them," the elf said.  
  
"The orcs," said Aragorn, "they are coming."  
  
"How long, how many?" Asked Gimli, sighing. He hadn't the energy. Everything had taken on a rather fatalistic view point for him.  
  
"Now."  
  
It was the last word Legolas was able to utter before the first orc became visible through the trees in the night. It lunged for the elf, who managed to get up his bow in time. A soft twang sounded form his weapon, and the orc fell to the dirt. But the orcs were closing in and the range was not right. Legolas had to abandon his weapon of choice for the two elven blades of his long-knives. He met his second head on in the semi- darkness. He slashed him across the neck, cutting open arteries and the wind pipe, leaving the creature as good as dead on the ground. Another orc came at him, and he proceeded to fight it like he did the first, going for the vulnerable spots in the armor: the head, neck, and lower abdomen.  
  
They kept on coming, one or two at a time, sometimes three. In a brief pause, he glanced to his right and saw his companions fighting fiercely. Aragorn was slick with sweat, and he realized that the man did not have the advantages as he, an immortal elf, had. This was not the first time he had seen the king of men in battle, but his skill never ceased to amaze Legolas. He was as graceful as an elf, seeming to dance with death, and yet he surpassed most of the elves he knew in swordsman ship.  
  
Legolas snapped back to attention as he found himself in a group of orcs, being attacked from all sides. He felt brief pain as one of their crudely made swords grazed his back. Ignoring it, he fought on. He had no trouble seeing in the shadow, but even with his elven skill, he could not defend every onrush of the uruks. He saw Gimli approach to help him, but he was too late. Legolas felt a burning pain in his gut, and looked down to see a stain of blood on his tunic, small, but growing. He had been slashed.  
  
With alarm, Gimli saw his friend clutch his side in pain. But Legolas was soon back up and fighting, as if he was not wounded. With increased fury, Gimli spun on the attackers, some three times his size, and cut them down with his ax.  
  
"How many more are there??" The dwarf asked in desperation as yet another wave came surging in to meet the trio. Aragorn was not given time to answer. As he was engaged with one orc, another managed to strike with his sword, aiming for his head. Aragorn saw it just in time and jumped back, but the uruk already switched tactics and landed and punch square in his face. Aragorn felt his nose break, and felt the blood pour forth. Before he could recover, another uruk brought its sword up in an arc and prepared to bring it smashing down on the man. Aragorn raised his arm to defend himself just in time. He dodged the blade, but the hilt of the weapon smashed painfully into his forearm. He felt the bone snap, and stumbled back, quickly recovering. He knew the damage was not serious, but it took effort to ignore the pain as he fought on.  
  
Legolas bit his cheek and kept on fighting. If not for himself, he knew that his friends needed his help, and he couldn't let them down. A skillful warrior with centuries of years experience, fighting was second nature-he didn't even have to think of how he was moving. Even he, an elf, was starting to grow weary. Though they had been fighting for no more than fifteen minutes, it was a long time in battle. Especially as intense at it was, with orcs on every side and just yourself and two companions, he thought. Things were beginning to look desperate. With catlike, fluid grace, he flashed his deadly blades.  
  
Gimli, the only one of the three wearing armor, was protected from most of the crude, orc blades. It was only when one of the uruk-hai landed a heavy blow to his head that he stumbled and finally fell to the ground. Luck was with him, though, for in the darkness, the uruks could not see his small, unconscious form, and let him be.  
  
Legolas panicked as he lost track of Gimli. But he had no further time to think of it. He heard the call of horns cut through the night air, and was filled hope for he recognized the horns of Rohan. Help had arrived. The orcs recognized it too, but they did not retreat just yet. Instead, in the distance, the elf saw the silhouette sof at least ten more. Suddenly, he felt the air rush by him as an arrow just missed his arm. Orc archers! He tried to warn his companions but it was too late. With his sharp eyes he saw a flash of black as an arrow hit Aragorn.  
  
"Aragorn!" he cried out in alarm.  
  
The man stumbled backwards under the impact, his eyes blurring with sweat and blood. Luckily, the adrenaline covered the pain, and Aragorn gritted his teeth and kept fighting. With a last trust of his sword he finished the orc, and looked up, prepared to fight til his death. But there were no more orcs. The ones that were not killed had fled.  
  
The man sighed in relief, and, suddenly feeling a blinding pain in his leg, leaned backward against a tree, supporting himself. His eyes crossed and he felt dizzy and faint. With great effort, he managed to sheath his sword. Only then did he look down at what was causing the throbbing in his left thigh. A black shaft protruded from deep inside the leg. His trousers were already soaked in blood, and he could feel more trickling down the inside of his calf and ankle. He did not fail to notice that the shaft thicker than both his thumbs put together. He cupped his hands around the shaft, trying to stop the flow of blood. Even that little pressure caused him unbearable pain. He could feel the blood warm and bubbling, seeping from between his fingers. His life, draining away.  
  
Legolas, clutching his side and heaving in pain, saw Gimli stagger up from the ground, holding his head. Both quickly checking each other, making sure that neither were in any danger of dying just yet, they rushed to the side of their injured companion.  
  
He was resting his back against the trunk of a tree, and slowly sliding down. Legolas caught him just before he fell, and lowered him down carefully to the ground, so he was still leaning against the tree with his injured leg stretched out in front of him.  
  
"Ahh," he moaned.  
  
"How badly are you injured?" Legolas asked, unable to hide the concern from his features. The man moaned again.  
  
"It is deep, I can feel it, and bleeding much. Mayhap it nicked an artery."  
  
"The riders of Rohan are approaching," said Gimli, "and not too soon! They will stop here and help us."  
  
"Yes," answered Legolas, as he inspected Aragorn's wounded leg. The blood was not clotting and if it kept that way, his friend would surly die from loss of the vital fluid before long. He gently ran his fingers down the sides of the shaft, amazed at its thickness. It was more like a spear than an arrow. He bit his tongue as he felt a brief pain on the tips of his fingers, and he realized that there were sharp thorn-like stingers jutting out from the shaft. The arrow was barbed! The barbs, though no longer that the last joint of the pinky finger, were used by some of the more brutal tribes of orcs and goblins so that even if the arrow did not kill the recipient, it made the wound incredibly painful and almost impossible to extract from the body. The man winced as he realized his situation, wrinkling his nose.  
  
Legolas could hear the hoof beats slowing as the riders approached them. "Aragorn," he said, "I'm not a healer. Tell me what I should do."  
  
The man tried to focus, and it was apparently difficult. At last, he spoke: "Reach down, undo my belt and take it off." After it was done, he took the belt and started wrapped it twice around his leg, right above where the arrow had hit. His hands were slick with blood and shaking. Legolas, seeing what he was doing, took over, fastening it like a tourniquet.  
  
"It must be tighter, as tight as you can make it, to stop the flow of blood," he told his friend. "Put you foot on my knee, there, hold my leg down." Legolas did as he was told. "On the count of three, press down with you boot and tighten the belt as much as so can. Do it swift, it will be painful."  
  
Legolas winced inwardly, imagining the pain. Yet another reason why he had never become a healer; too much blood, too much hurt. He could not stand the sight of it, especially on a friend so dear.  
  
"One," he began counting, "two," in a quick and strong motion he tightened the belt as much as he could. The man cried out in agony. He quickly tied the belt, making sure it was tight enough. The blood flowing from the wound had slowed, now it was little more than a trickle. Aragorn was breathing heavily, his eyes shut tight. He opened them and looked at his leg. Abruptly, he turned to the side and vomited.  
  
Legolas, forgetting his own wound, looked up to see the riders of Rohan had entered the clearing and paused, bows drawn at the unlucky trio. He stood up, showing the palms of his hands as a gesture of peace, but still the archers remained as they were. "Peace," he said. "We are not your enemies. We were looking for our friends when we were attacked by orcs. I am Legolas, elf of Mirkwood, this is Gimli, dwarf of-" before he could finish what he was saying or get to Aragorn, he was cut off by the leader of the riders.  
  
"An elf and a dwarf together in company?" and some of the soldiers laughed nervously. "Nay, I was jesting. You fought the orcs, you say? Well by the looks of it, you succeeded." He was looking at the piles of the dead orcs the three had slain.  
  
Aragorn had recovered enough to study what was going on. His eyes widened slightly as he recognized the man talking. "Eomer?"  
  
The man called Eomer paused, stunned. He could not make out who or what the creature that called his name was in the dark. Everyone was still and quite as he cautiously approached the figure. As he got closer he could tell from the way it was leaning against the tree that it was injured. Unexpectedly, a cloud shifted and a moonlight beam crossed against the creature's face. Despite the bloody face and broken nose that marred the man's rugged face, he recognized his old friend at once.  
  
"Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Lord of the Dunedan!" he said and immediately kneeled by his friends side. "Heir of Isilder and rightful King of Gondor and Arnor," he whispered closer to the man's ear so that only he could hear.  
  
"Quiet, my dear friend, there are some things better left unsaid," the man replied, matching the volume of the words. They embraced like old friends, and Eomer couldn't help but notice his old friend wince.  
  
"Are you injured badly?" he asked.  
  
The other man paused. "I fear so," he said, and pointed to the arrow.  
  
Eomer sighed. He could tell the wound was grievous and that Aragorn, though he struggled to keep from showing it, was fading fast.  
  
Aragorn's vision blurred even more and it became a struggle to remain upright. Vaguely, he heard more voices above his head, but they were droned out as his head lost focus. He closed his eyes and lost consciousness.  
  
*~*  
  
I already have a little more written.but I might not post it. I guess it depends on how well received the first part is. SO, if you want more, you gotta review!! Will Aragorn survive? Will Legolas ignore his own injuries until it's too late? Will Gimli be completely forgotten about, or will he play a greater role in the chapter(s) to come?  
  
Find out next week on mbali's wondrous fanfiction---I mean, review, and you might get more!! 8-) 


	2. Chap 2

Author's Note: yeah, it's been about 3 months or more. It's just.well, I seem to have written myself into a hole. I'll finish this chapter, and maybe one more. But as this is an AU, and I'm definitely not up to writing a novel length fic, I don't know how to end it. Maybe it could just tie back into the original plot..well, whatever. Sorry to keep everyone waiting so long. =( I suck, and I know it.  
  
Also, I don't really know anything about the practice of medicine. I'll go back and try to correct any mistakes in the 1st chapter, and there will probably be some in this chapter too. Thanks for pointing them out to me.  
  
~*~  
  
Legolas slumped into the side of the tent. He was exhausted, in pain, and his hair was a mess-which is saying something for an elf. He and a soldier of Rohan, who had some knowledge in the arts of healing, had tended to Aragorn as best they could. With their minimal knowledge and sparse supplies, they had managed to stop the flow of blood from his wound and bandage it. Unfortunately, there was little else they could do for it at the moment. He hated to admit it to himself, but he really didn't know anything about healing. And unless Aragorn woke soon, within the next day, they would have to do without his help in removing the arrow and cleaning the wound. For even Legolas knew about the deadly infections that could happen when an arrow was not removed.  
  
But now the man was resting, and hopefully recovering, in one of the tents Eomer and his men had pitched near where they had fought the orcs. Moving the injured human had been a difficult task. Even in his unconsciousness, the man had softly cried out at the pain of being moved. And now Legolas was feeling his own injuries, but suddenly he was too tired to care.  
  
"Master Elf!"  
  
He was jolted out of his trance by a small, yet surprisingly loud creature for his size. "Master Elf! Now it is time for us to see to your injuries."  
  
"Yes, Gimli, it seems that I was wounded more seriously that I thought"  
  
"Well then, I guess I shall have to treat you," the dwarf harrumphed.  
  
As serious as the circumstances were, Legolas could not help but grin at the dwarfs expression, who it seemed couldn't decide between being nervous at the prospect of doing something he had never attempted, or excited.  
  
"I thank you graciously, friend. But I think I'd rather have a more experienced person treat me."  
  
The dwarf harrumphed again. "Fine then. I will go fetch the man who helped with Aragorn."  
  
The elf was relieved. He was definitely feeling the effects of his wounds, though they were not very serious. The man, who's name was Thengal, led him to another tent, where he was instructed to take off his shirt and sit down.  
  
Thengal, taking a bowl of clean water and a piece of cloth, gently cleaned out the two cuts that Legolas had received. The one on his back was little more than a long scratch. The cut on his torso was deeper, but it hadn't pierced anything vital, and bled only a little. As an elf, his system was already countering the wound. But it still needed to be cleaned and stitched up.  
  
All in all it was not too bad. The slash on his stomach required ten stitches, which were painful. But in his lifetime of a couple thousand years, he had experienced far worse. He even managed to stay awake through the process.  
  
After he was all set, he was led by Gimli back to their tent, and finally succumbed to his exhaustion, resolving to see to Aragorn in the morning.  
  
*~*  
  
Ah, the bliss of unconsciousness, thought Aragorn as he hovered in the realm between sleep and wakefulness. He slowly became aware of some one shaking him, calling his name. He opened his eyes slowly and saw the face of Legolas above him.  
  
"Aragorn," he said urgently. "Aragorn wake up!"  
  
He mumbled groggily.  
  
"Aragorn, you must tell us what to do. We have to remove the arrow in your leg. You have to concentrate so you can tell us what to do."  
  
He looked around and saw white walls of linen around him; he must be in a tent. He tried to sit up so he could have a good look at his leg, but as he tried to raise himself with his arm he felt the shooting pain and remembered the wrist had been broken. "Prop my head up so I can see," he said. Legolas did as he was told and Aragorn sat up, examining his leg. The trousers had been cut away from the wound, and it was bandaged tightly to stop the bleeding, but not completely cut off circulation to his leg. The space around the shaft where it entered the flesh was a nasty shade of dark purple and slightly inflamed. Aragorn could feel himself burning with fever; the arrow had stayed in his body too long and was becoming infected. He quickly gave commands for one of the men to collect certain herbs to use to counter the infection, as well as others to slow the bleeding if it started up again. He felt more dizziness, but was quickly drawn back into reality by Legolas. He was cutting off the end of the arrow and breaking off the barbs so it would be easier to pull out when the time came. He was being as gentle as he could but he was still disturbing the arrow a little. The Dunedan gritted his teeth in pain.  
  
After the preparations were done, Aragorn instructed that Gimli was to hold down his leg while Legolas pulled the arrow out in one quick motion. "Are you sure about this, Aragorn?" Eomer asked by his side.  
  
"Yes," he said through clenched teeth. "Just get it over with."  
  
Legolas started to cout to three, but pulled when he had only reached two. Aragorn cried out, the pain was so much. His muscles tensed and he thrashed out, kicking Gimli who had been trying to hold down his leg. But Legolas could not pull the arrow out, the barbs were digging into bone and muscle.  
  
Aragorn was hyperventilating, his eyes closed tightly. His leg had started bleeding again and his face was covered in sweat. Eomer gently washed his forehead with cool water. Slowley, his breathing returned to normal and he unclenched. After a few minutes, he opened his grey eyes again. Eomer couldn't help but notice the once-bright eyes were now glazed with hurt.  
  
"I could not get it out, Aragorn," Legolas said, shaking his head sadly.  
  
"It's alright, my dear friend..barbs go deep. Find a knife, an elven blade perhaps, and used it to.open the wound, make it..bigger." He said with great effort. "You must also hold me down, don't want..to injure myself further."  
  
Eomer kneeled by Aragorn's head to hold down his shoulders and Gimli and another man held down his arms and legs, being careful not to touch near the wound. Legolas succeeded in stopping the flow of blood again, and was inspecting the wound. He had a slim dagger held out in front of him, and he was preparing to start the insicion. He didn't know how deep the arrow went, or if it was imbedded in the bone.  
  
He took a few deep, steady breaths, and prepared himself to help his friend. Using the knife, he slowly sliced it into the flesh on the side of the arrow. Aragorn let out a small grunt of pain, but Legolas ignored it as he continued. He did this to the other side near the arrow Aragorn had squeezed his eyes shut, his mouth clamping on a stick someone had mercifully given him. Sweat was trickling down his forehead. "Aragorn, listen to me." His friend opened his eyes slowly. "I'm going to remover the arrow now. It will be painful, I know, but after this you can rest, it will be over."  
  
Legolas gripped the arrow and pulled with all his might. For a moment, it seemed that it would not come out. And then, it budged a little, for the arrow head had lodged itself in the bone, and now had come loose. Aragorn uttered a muffled scream of anguish and he thrashed out. Though he was injured the pain was so great he almost succeeded in overpowering all three men who held him down. Legolas pulled the arrow the rest of the way out, grimacing at the inch long barbs which had torn at the muscle and were now shiny with blood. It was an evil thing, this arrow.  
  
Aragorn had finally lost consciousness, and was overcome with a painless sleep. Legolas, exhausted, stitched up the wound as well as he could, and bandaged it as tightly as he could. The man had lost so much blood, but now it looked like he would survive.  
  
*~*  
  
Author's Note:  
  
Once again, I'm really sorry this took so long. Especially to all who reviewed. I've kinda lost interest in where this is going too, because honestly, all this fic is, is pain and injuries and torture. And while I don't mind that, I don't like writing solely about it. My point is, is that if there is anyone out there who would like to continue this fanfiction for me, I'd be agreed to give them pretty much complete liberties of doing so. Just email me, and I'll give you permission. I know this is probably not considered orthodox by all those who follow the fanfiction religion, but whatever. If not, I might write one or two more chapters, but I don't think it would ever come to an end. Which I know SUCKS because I HATE reading fics that just stop. So I'm sorry. But..I should probably stop rambling now.  
  
Once again, if there is ANYONE out there who would like to take over the fic, email me, and I will give you permission and liberties to do whatever you want. If there is more than one person who wants to, the Valar knows why, I guess it would have to be a first-come-first-serve deal. Or there'd be more than one of these forsaken stories floating around the net. 


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